Change of Plans
by Anne Redwood
Summary: Several moments passed as Miraz visibly collected himself. Once his refined dignity was restored, he lowered his sword and focused on the Just King. "I accept your proposal," he stated. As Edmund moved to speak, the Usurper added, "On one condition." The story of Miraz accepting the challenge of single combat. But what is the condition that he wants to add? T because I'm paranoid.
1. Condition

The Telmarine soldiers stirred and several dropped their hands to their swords as Edmund and his entourage, Glenstorm and Wimbleweather, stopped at the edge of the enemy camp. Setting down the tree sapling that represented his peaceful approach, Edmund raised his voice and declared, "I, Edmund the Just, come bearing a message from Peter the High King of Narnia to the Usurper Miraz!"

A soldier scurried away while the rest gradually returned to work, glancing at the Narnians from time to time. As they waited, Ed adjusted the sword at his hip and straightened his bright red tunic so that the golden lion was proudly displayed. Several minutes later, high above him, Wimbleweather focused on movement still too far ahead for Edmund to see. "What do you see?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"A soldier is guiding a man here," the giant muttered. Well, to him it was a mutter; to Edmund, Glenstorm, and the Telmarines it was border-lining a shout.

Only moments later the pair Wimbleweather had reported arrived. The man being led by the soldier carried himself the way a seasoned warrior would, perfectly balanced, ready for anything, and confident. As he stopped before Edmund, Glenstorm shifted closer, not trusting the Telmarine, but Edmund held up a hand and Glenstorm settled down, but not without pawing the ground once in protest. Meeting the older man's gaze, he stated, "My name is Edmund, brother of the High King of Narnia. I have a message for the Usurper Miraz."

For a moment, the man did not reply and simply studied Ed, who returned the interest. The Telmarine's dark, almost black, hair was curly and he wore a full, but well maintained beard. Finally, the man nodded. "I am General Glozelle. This way."

After instructing Glenstorm and Wimbleweather to await his return, he followed General Glozelle to an open-sided pavilion. As Edmund stepped inside, General Glozelle moved to stand beside the entrance just behind his left shoulder. His entrance was greeted by several soft gasps. Having expected this reaction due to his age, Edmund ignored them and surveyed his surroundings out of the corner of his eye. Three tables had been placed in the beginnings of a square, thus effectively hemming the young king in, a tactic he had encountered on multiple occasions.

The Lords, all dressed for battle, were already seated, leaving the ornate chair directly across from Edmund unoccupied. _One for grand entrances,_ he smirked inwardly. Peter would appreciate that someone else shared his dramatic flair; Ed himself did not share his brother's enthusiasm for fanfare. Whenever the High King and courtiers allowed, he'd arrive unannounced.

Chairs being shoved back hastily returned the Just King's attention to the situation at hand. A man with eyes and hair as dark as Edmund's own strode into the pavilion, barely glancing at Ed, who suppressed a smile as the older man reclined in the travel throne. The Usurper's ego was even more obvious than the pimple Susan had sported a week ago. Just as Caspian had described. Not in those words, of course, he hadn't seen the pimple, but the idea was the same.

"Your Majesty," General Glozelle bowed. "This boy bears a message from the Narnian army."

Usurper Miraz (Ed refused to call him anything else) flapped a hand in Edmund's direction. "Proceed," he ordered.

With the proper amount of flair, Edmund opened the scroll bearing the High King's challenge. Not for the first time he smiled at Peter's fancy letters. Later he'd have to tease the older boy about his girly handwriting, but for the time being…

"I, Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood, do hereby challenge the Usurper Miraz to single combat upon the field of battle. The fight shall be to the death, the reward total surrender."

Silence filled the pavilion as the lords and usurper processed the message. As Edmund began to reroll the parchment, Miraz leaned forward, head resting on folded hands. "Tell me, Prince Edmund…"

"King," Edmund interrupted, casually glancing at the dark man while securing the scroll closed.

There was a pause and Miraz sat back, head tilted in confusion before he managed, "P-pardon me?"

Ed made no attempt to mask his amusement, though he did tone it down. Correcting foreign dignitaries (a term that didn't fit Miraz even loosely) had always been fun. It allowed him to put his sarcasm and mischief to use. "It's King Edmund, actually. Just king, though; Peter's the High King," he added as an afterthought. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth at the sight of the Telmarines struggling to understand how a boy of only fifteen years could be a king let alone the idea that there were two kings ruling at once. With just a hint of patronizing, Edmund shrugged, "I know; it's confusing."

Clearly trying to regain some dignity, the Usurper lounged in his throne. "Why would we risk such a proposal when our armies could wipe you out by nightfall?" he inquired, hands twitching to direct Edmund's attention to the camp surrounding them.

And that was why Edmund was here. There was more to it than being the High King's brother or even that sending Caspian would be incredibly foolish. Peter had chosen him for his quick tongue; it was his job to goad the Telmarine git into accepting the challenge.

Glancing around, meeting the gazes of several lords, Edmund asked, "Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" His dark eyes glimmered. "I mean, only a week ago," he emphasized "week" and noted the uneasy fumbling with satisfaction. "Narnians were extinct." The last three words were pointed challengingly at Miraz.

"And so you shall be again," the Usurper hissed, rising to the bait.

"Well then you should have little to fear," Edmund stated quickly. _Act like we're desperate for him to accept. Like we __**need**__ him to accept. Make him arrogant…More than he already is, anyway._

With a loud laugh, Miraz shook his head slightly. "This is not a question of bravery."

That was all the invitation Ed needed. Pointing the scroll at Miraz, Edmund smirked, "So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?" His infliction made it a question; his tone made it a mocking statement.

Eyes burning with fury, the Usurper leaned forward. "I didn't say I refused," he growled.

Edmund opened his mouth to reply when one of the lords seated near the end of Miraz's table spoke. "You have our support, Your Majesty, whatever you decide."

For a brief moment, he feared that Miraz's ego might be soothed by the statement. It was a short lived concern, however, eased by the words of the man directly to the Usurper's right. "Sire." The man's oily voice set off warning bells in Edmund's mind and he was grateful that such a man had never sat in power at the Cair. "Our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid…"

In an instant Miraz was on his feet, sword brandished, eyes boring into the man. "I'm not avoiding anything!" he snarled.

Something about the lord's words and gestures spoke of treachery, and Edmund watched the Telmarines interact with interest. Any information about tension within the enemy could prove useful.

The lord attempted to "explain" himself. "I was merely pointing out that my Lord is well within his rights to refuse."

"His Majesty would never refuse." At the sound of the deep voice behind him, Edmund angled himself towards the General. Miraz glanced at the man, outrage and shock warring for control on his features. Glozelle continued as if ignorant of the fury being directed towards him. "He relishes the chance to show the people the courage of their king."

Despite the fact that the man was his enemy, Edmund had to admire the skill with which he'd trapped the Usurper; Miraz would have to accept the challenge or lose face. However, what Ed found more interesting than the way it was done was why it was done. _Seems that the Narnians aren't alone in their hatred of Miraz_, he noted. While their reasoning was different and they'd likely cause trouble for him later, Ed appreciated the "help" in convincing Miraz. They were using him as much as he was using them; he did wish that he'd had a chance to taunt the git more, though. Giving a mental shrug, he reminded himself that it didn't matter who influenced Miraz so long as the man agreed to the challenge.

Several moments passed as Miraz visibly collected himself. Once his refined dignity was restored, he lowered his sword and focused on the Just King. "I accept your proposal," he stated. As Edmund moved to speak, the Usurper added, "On one condition." Edmund raised an eyebrow. "You shall be my opponent."

On the outside, Edmund appeared unfazed, but within he did a double-take. _A change in opponent? Revenge for trapping him? Or does he think he stands a better chance facing me?_

"Or do you need your brother's permission?" Miraz sneered.

"Your terms are acceptable," Edmund replied evenly. "I will serve as your opponent. We'll fight when the sun reaches the peak of the How."

Miraz's reasoning didn't matter, nor did it matter who fought the bloody git. This wasn't for pride or a chance to show off; this was about freeing Narnia from the tyrant who soiled the throne. _Peter's going to throw a fit._ As he offered the man a mock nod, Edmund couldn't resist adding, "I hope that you're brave enough to face a 'boy' in battle."

Veins throbbing in his forehead, Miraz raised his weapon once again, aiming the tip directly at Edmund's heart. "You had better hope your sword is sharper than your tongue," he threatened, voice quivering.

As he turned to exit the pavilion, Edmund allowed himself a smirk. _If I were you, I'd hope it isn't. _General Glozelle fell into step beside him as an escort to the edge of camp. The walk was short and silent, neither one having anything to say to the other. Once Edmund had informed Glenstorm and Wimbleweather that they were returning to the How, General Glozelle turned, and disappeared among his soldiers.

Halfway across the field between the two camps, Glenstorm glanced at the young king. "Your Majesty, is something concerning you?"

Edmund laughed, a tight, resigned sound. "I am not looking forward to delivering the news to my brother."

"Did the negotiations end badly?" the centaur frowned.

"No," Edmund reassured him. "But Miraz added a condition, and I doubt Peter will be pleased with the result."

**Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading Chapter One of **_**Change of Plans**_**. This is my first attempt at fanfiction so I'm curious to know what you think. Please no flames, though; they kill creativity. I hope to have the story completely done before my Thanksgiving break so, with any luck, there will be regular updates. The more feedback the faster they go up ;). **


	2. Reaction

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support. I was amazed how quickly I got feedback. That really means a lot. Without further ado, here is Chapter Two. **

Upon reaching the How, Edmund paused and took a deep breath. As if reading his thoughts, Glenstorm asked, "Shall we accompany you as you deliver the news to the High King?"

Edmund shook his head, dismissing the proposal. "Thank you, Glenstorm, but that won't be necessary." Offering the centaur a smile, he added, "Both of you did well and have my gratitude. Now go and rest." As Wimbleweather and Glenstorm bowed and went their separate ways, Edmund stepped into the cool caverns and made his way to the chamber that housed the cracked remains of the Stone Table. He would've preferred a chance to change out of his armor before meeting to discuss Miraz's response, but he knew Peter would be anxious for news.

Peter and Caspian were waiting for him. Peter was standing beside the archway framing Aslan's likeness, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes locked on his younger brother as Caspian paced before the High King. As Edmund reached them, Peter pushed off the wall and moved to greet him while Caspian stopped short and watched. "Ed!"

"Hullo, Pete," Edmund grinned, mentally bracing himself for question that was sure to come next.

"How did it go?" Peter asked. The older boy's lower lip was raw from restless gnawing and his blond hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"He accepted the proposal," Edmund told him while exchanging an acknowledging nod with Caspian.

"Thank Aslan," Peter breathed. The tension in his shoulders eased, not gone but a bit more relaxed with the good news they so desperately needed. With a clap of his hands, a habit that signaled when his mind was set, Peter held his head high. "When do I face him?"

"You don't," Edmund stated, meeting Peter's gaze steadily.

Caspian, who had been watching from the side, stepped forward. "I thought my uncle accepted the challenge," he frowned.

"He did," Edmund agreed. "Peter, however, will not be the one facing him." Peter's eyes narrowed and his mouth became a tight line.

Beside him, Caspian tilted his head. "I don't understand."

"Miraz agreed to fight, but added a condition."

"What condition?" Peter demanded.

This was the part he knew he had to be careful with. Edmund winced inwardly, hating that his news would add to the burden already on his brother's shoulders. "He requested that I serve as his opponent instead of you, Pete."

The words had barely left his mouth when Peter stated, "We cannot agree to those terms."

Shaking his head slowly, Edmund held Peter's eyes. "I've already given my consent."

For several long moments the only sound in the chamber was the warm chatter of the flames along the perimeter. Peter was rigid, blue eyes icing over with displeasure. Caspian merely stared at Edmund with his lips partially parted. "Edmund…" Peter started, voice low and deliberate.

Before his brother could say more, Edmund focused on Caspian. "The troops are likely desperate for news. Why don't you inform them of Miraz's acceptance?" When the other male looked ready to protest, Ed added, "It will give them some much needed hope."

After casting a concerned glance at Peter, who was standing arms crossed and jaw jutted forward, Caspian gave a small nod before hurrying from the chamber. Once he judged the Telmarine prince to be out of earshot, the Just King returned his attention to the High King. "I'm not stepping down, Peter."

Peter strode forward until he was an arm's length away from Edmund. "Why didn't you consult me before agreeing?"

Holding his ground, Edmund replied, "I didn't see a need to."

"Didn't see a need to?" Peter repeated, hands clenching at his sides.

"Even if we had discussed it, we would have accepted the condition."

"Why's that?"

Edmund moved to lean against the Stone Table, refusing to be baited. The rough rock was reassuring and strong against his back. "I saw the Telmarine camp, Pete. Their numbers are far greater and the war machines add to their advantage. While I was speaking with the Usurper, he claimed that his army could wipe us out by nightfall." Dark eyes serious, he focused on the image of Aslan. "I agree with him."

"What are you saying, Ed?" Peter demanded. "Don't you believe in our army?"

"I believe that our army would fight to the last Narnian," Edmund snapped, annoyed that Peter would accuse him of such a thing. "But I also understand that our odds of winning are slim at best. To avoid that kind of loss, we have to agree to Miraz's request."

"As High King, I should be facing Miraz," Peter protested, trying a different tactic.

Edmund had anticipated this argument and shook his head. "Aslan crowned the four of us as equals," he reminded his brother. "I can take on such tasks with the same authority as you." Running a hand through his hair, Peter frowned, clearly searching for another reason to keep Ed from facing the Telmarine usurper. Not giving Peter time, Edmund continued, "I'm also the better swordsman of the two of us; I win three times out of four when we spar." He paused, allowing Peter a chance to reply. When Peter didn't, Edmund closed his eyes and added softly, "Besides, it doesn't matter who faces Miraz. This about saving Narnia."

Silence stretched between the brothers for several moments; Edmund waiting for a reaction, Peter lost in thought. Finally, Peter sighed. "I need to fight Miraz so I can…" his voice trailed away, but not before Ed picked up on the self-loathing in his tone.

"You've already been forgiven, Pete," Ed told his brother. "You don't need to try to redeem yourself."

Avoiding his younger brother's gaze, Peter shook his head fiercely. "How can you say that?" he demanded, but his aggression was gone, replaced by doubt. Blue eyes overly bright, he stared at the floor. "After all the mistakes I made…"

Edmund cut him off. "Pete, we've all made mistakes. I was a traitor when we first came to Narnia." Shoulders slumped, he ran a hand along the Stone Table, remembering when he and Peter had first heard the news of Aslan's death. "I'm the reason Aslan died on this very stone. And yet," here he turned to focus on his brother. "All of my mistakes were forgiven and you, Susan, Lucy, and Narnia accepted me." Reaching out, he put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Do you really think it won't be the same for the High King of Narnia?"

Finally meeting Edmund's dark eyes, Peter sighed. "How did you do it?"

With wry smile, Edmund shook his head. "With help. It was only through you three and Aslan that I was able to heal. And the first step is to move forward and do what you can for Narnia."

Slowly, Peter nodded. "I still don't like the idea of you fighting Miraz," he muttered.

"I'll be fine, Pete," Edmund reassured him. Eyes gleaming, he smirked. "If Miraz thinks taking Narnia will be easy, he'll learn the hard way that challenging the Kings and Queens of Old is a fatal mistake."


	3. Preperation

**Hey, so I'm really sorry about how long it took me to get this chapter up; first there was getting ready for school and then the first week of school. Uhg, college why do you have to take up so much time? Anyway, here's Chapter Three! I hope it lives up to expectations. As always your comments are welcome. **

Edmund studied the battle plans spread before the Stone Table once more. None of them were naïve enough to believe the Telmarines would honor their agreement if Edmund won the duel. As such, they had held a council of war to discuss their options. They couldn't defeat the Telmarines in battle, but with the right strategies the odds of them holding out until Lucy arrived with Aslan were better.

A familiar presence appeared at his shoulder and Ed smiled. _Speak of the devil._ Without looking up from the parchment, he asked, "Can I help you, Lu?"

The younger girl shook her head. "Not really." Red and silver dress rustling, she clambered onto the Stone Table and sat facing the carving of the Great Lion. Turning away from the plans, Edmund leaned against the stone beside her, following Lucy's gaze. "You've done well, Edmund," she commented after a moment. "I'm sure Aslan's proud of you."

"What are you talking about, Lu?"

Without looking away from the carving, Lucy smiled. "You've been supporting all of us this whole time, here and in England."

Silence fell between the youngest Pevensies, each lost in their own thoughts.

That was how Susan found them just as she had many times before, silently enjoying one another's company. "Lu," she called as she approached. "It's time to go."

Edmund flinched inwardly. This was the part of the plan that made him the most nervous. Lucy was about to leave and search for Aslan. While he had no doubt that Lucy would find Aslan or that the Great Lion would come to their aid, he did worry for his younger sister's safety. She'd be traveling without an escort in the hopes that she could slip past the Telmarines unnoticed. If she was spotted though…

"Just a moment, Susan." Hopping down, Lucy wrapped her arms around Ed's waist and buried her face in his shoulder, not seeking comfort but conveying affection.

As he returned the embrace, he pressed a kiss into her light brown hair. "Aslan guide you, sister mine," he whispered, using the endearment that the Pevensie children had taken to using when they wanted to reinforce their bond.

With one last squeeze, Lucy released him. Brown eyes shining with her own inner light, Lucy met Edmund's gaze and he was reminded of the valiant queen his younger sister was. "Aslan shield you, brother mine," she replied, standing on tip-toe and kissing his cheek.

When his sisters were out of sight, Edmund swallowed hard. _This isn't the first time Lu's done this sort of thing_, he reminded himself. _Still…_ "Aslan, watch over her and guide her to your side," he breathed, closing his eyes. "Please."

For several long moments, he remained where he was, head bowed. Then, taking a deep breath, he gathered himself. Worrying about something that was beyond his control would do nothing to change the situation they were in. Right now, he needed to focus on his own task and trust in Aslan's plan.

Another yawn escaped Edmund as he tugged the chainmail hauberk on, successfully managing to keep his hair from getting snagged by the metal links. Caspian paused while helping Peter adjust his pauldrons and glanced at him. "Are you alright, Edmund?" Caspian asked, brow furrowed. "That's the tenth time you've yawned."

"Mornings don't suit me," Ed shrugged before yawning again. Neither one seemed to believe his explanation, but Edmund wasn't going to change it. Telling them he'd been up a good deal of the night training and praying would not help their already fragile moral and confidence. As he carefully pulled the crimson tunic on, he closed his eyes and pushed all thoughts unrelated to the duel aside.

"Ed's always been more of a night owl," Peter agreed as he nodded his thanks to Caspian. "You should've seen him in the mornings when we had visiting dignitaries. It was the only time I didn't have to worry about what he said."

Edmund laughed at the memories, but he could hear the forced playfulness in Peter's voice. Lacing up his leather gorget, he nodded towards his own pauldrons and asked, "Could you help me out, Pete?"

His older brother didn't need to be asked twice. As Peter fastened the straps, Edmund could feel the faint trembling in his hands. Once again Edmund's own doubts rose to the surface and he set his jaw, refusing to acknowledge them. A few feet away, Caspian glanced at him, a faint frown furrowing his brow. Edmund ignored the silent question.

Finished with the pauldrons, Peter picked up Edmund's leather vambraces and proceeded to lace them. Normally Edmund would protest and tell Peter not to hover, but he decided to give in without an argument this time. When Peter tied the last knot, Edmund gave him a small smirk. "You're a right old mother hen, Peter."

Caspian smiled as Peter turned red. "Edmund!" Peter protested and for a brief moment the fear in his stance was gone, something that boosted Edmund's spirit; he could still support Peter in all of this.

Still smiling, Caspian handed Edmund his belt. "Is the High King always like this?" the Telmarine prince asked.

"Before every battle," Edmund replied as he knotted the belt around his waist. "The queens can back my statement."

"Are we discussing Peter's habit of worrying over you?" Susan inquired, appearing at the entrance of the armory.

"Queen Susan," Caspian bowed as Edmund replied, "What else?"

A soft smile graced the Gentle Queen's features for a second before her blue eyes became serious. "Caspian, would you help me organize the troops? The Telmarines will be arriving soon."

"Of course, my queen."

As Caspian grabbed his sword, Susan put a hand on Edmund's shoulder, but didn't say anything for which he was grateful. It was hard enough with Peter's anxious presence. When Caspian moved towards the tunnels she gave her brothers a quick smile. "I will see you at the duel." With that, Susan turned and led Caspian back the way she had come. Almost immediately the tension returned and Edmund repressed the urge to sigh.

"Are you ready?"

The High King's question weighed heavily on the Just King's shoulders. Keeping his voice light, Edmund nodded, "Yes, Peter." And he was. He was ready to spill his blood for his country, to die if need be, but was he ready to face the Telmarine usurper as an equal swordsman? _Aslan, give me the strength to save Your country, Your people._

Outside a single horn blast announced the arrival of the Telmarines. Edmund's heart pounded against his ribs at the sound. Beside him, Peter tensed, hands curling into fists. Swallowing in an attempt to moisten his throat, Edmund met Peter's gaze. "Escort me?"

"Of course," Peter replied, moving to pick up Edmund's sword and a helmet.

Edmund waved a hand at the helmet. "I've never worn one since Beruna and I won't wear one now."

"Must you always test fate?"

"I can't let fate get bored now can I?"

"Edmund!"

"It restricts my vision, Pete," Edmund reminded him. "A helmet would more of a hindrance than anything."

Reluctant, Peter replaced the helmet. With a nod, Edmund turned and strode through the tunnels, his brother at his side.


	4. Confrontation

Just before he stepped out of the How's protective shadow, Edmund paused. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself five seconds: five seconds of acknowledging the churning nausea, dizzying lightheadedness, sweating palms, and trembling knees. And then it was over.

Head held high, he walked into the sun with Peter following just a step behind his right shoulder. Cheers rose up from the Narnian army as Edmund reached the ruins that were serving as an improvised arena. Susan, Caspian, and Glenstorm stood waiting for him, the centaur and prince bowing their heads at his arrival.

Edmund nodded to them before turning his attention to Usurper Miraz and his entourage: General Glozelle, the oily lord, and another that Edmund didn't recognize. A faint smile tugged at his lips when he noted how ornate Miraz's chair was. _How many 'thrones' does he have?_ But the amusement faded quickly as he watched the Usurper glance at Glozelle and nod at the crossbow in the General's hand. Edmund didn't have to hear or even read Miraz's lips to know what he was saying: shoot him if things go badly. _Two threats to watch. This could be a problem._

Spotting Edmund, the Usurper rose, sneering at the young king. Edmund ignored him and drew his sword. As Peter set the sheath aside, Edmund turned to face Miraz and grimaced. "I think he's taking the term two-face a little too seriously."

Peter glanced at him. "What are you talking about, Ed?"

"His helmet," Ed replied, gesturing to where the Telmarine was putting on a gold helmet with a mask shaped like his face instead of a visor.

Beside him, Caspian shifted and dropped a hand to his sword. Without a word, Edmund put a hand on the Prince's arm and squeezed. Slowly, Caspian's grip relaxed, but his expression remained dark.

Across the arena, Miraz stepped forward, sword and shield in hand. Glancing at Peter's shield for a moment, Ed raised an eyebrow at his brother who handed it over with a concerned frown. Edmund hated asking, but since he didn't know his opponent's fighting style he'd rather be safe than sorry. Unfortunately, Peter knew that it also meant Edmund wasn't completely confident. _He knows too much._ With one last nod to the others, Edmund moved to meet his enemy.

When they were only a few feet apart, they began to pace back and forth in front of each other, sizing the other up. _He's balanced,_ Edmund noted, watching the older man closely. _But he drags his feet. That'll slow him down._

"There is still time to surrender," Miraz observed, his voice sounding hollow behind the mask.

"Be my guest," Edmund offered.

"How many more must die for the throne?"

Raising his sword into on guard, Edmund stated, "Just you."

At his reply, Miraz took his own stance, angled sideways with his shield extended towards Edmund and his sword held back and parallel to the ground. A heartbeat passed and then Miraz was lunging forward. It didn't take long for Edmund to recognize the difference in their physical strength. Each blow he blocked with his shield jarred his bones and nearly knocked him off his feet despite his best efforts. If he was going to win this, he'd need speed which meant ditching the shield. _Not yet_, he decided, blocking another heavy strike. _I don't know enough yet._

Two more minutes and Edmund had learned enough. Miraz's style was easy, predictable. After every exchange, he'd retreat a few steps, and return to his original stance before charging in again. As Miraz retreated once more, Edmund allowed the shield to drop from his arm. Before Miraz could take his stance, Ed went on the offensive, using his speed and agility to his advantage.

The Telmarine was taken by surprise by the sudden onslaught, but only for a moment; Edmund reluctantly gave him credit for that. Pressing harder, Edmund cornered Miraz against a slab of rubble and drew a line of crimson across the man's right leg. The man shouted and lashed out, forcing Edmund back several paces.

Behind his golden mask, Miraz's dark eyes went wide with panic. As he continued his attack, Edmund watched his opponent's gaze flick to the side. _The crossbow! _

His attention shifted to the Telmarine general for less than a second, but it was enough. There was a flash of gold and black in his peripheral vision. And then the world titled beneath him, sending him sprawling onto his back. _His shield…_A dark fog settled over his vision and he struggled to push it away.

"Edmund!"

Peter's warning cut through the fog enough for Edmund to see the flashing blade stabbing down towards him. It was only the instinct Oreius had drilled into him that kept him alive, but it didn't save him completely.

Edmund cried out, senses sharpened by the sudden, white hot pain in his left shoulder. Jerking his sword free, the Usurper drew back his arm for a second strike. As the blade came down again, Edmund rolled, hearing steel clang against stone. Miraz stalked after him and Edmund continued to roll, any attempt to get up would slow him down enough for Miraz to deal a finishing blow; he couldn't allow that. When he had gone as far as he could, Ed paused, waiting for the Telmarine to move closer. Just as Miraz took the final step that would bring him into striking distance, the Just King reversed the direction of his roll and crashed into the older man's legs.

The resulting pain in his shoulder made his head swim and his stomach heave, but his "attack" had had the desired effect; Miraz was on the ground. With his injured leg, he'd be slow to get up, allowing Edmund to get back to his feet and retrieve his sword, which he had dropped when the Telmarine's shield had met his head. By the time Miraz had regained his feet, Edmund had his sword held in front of him in the basic on guard position.

Blood pulsed from his shoulder and trickled from a gash somewhere above his right eye, but Edmund stood firm and met the older man's gaze without flinching. He would _never_ give the git the satisfaction of seeing him weak. Seeing the uncertainty in Miraz's eyes, Ed asked, "Does his Majesty need a respite?" hoping to further unnerve the Telmarine by his apparent lack of concern for his injuries.

Miraz hesitated before saying, "Five minutes."

"Three," Edmund countered, putting all his authority into the word.

For a moment the combatants stared at each other before Miraz limped to join his entourage. As he reached his men, he ripped his helmet off and snarled at Glozelle. _Don't let it get that close again_, Ed noted hazily before taking a deep breath. Schooling his features into a relaxed grin, he turned and made his way to where his siblings, friend, and general were waiting. Susan's hands were clasped in front her, knuckles white, while Peter stood rigid, gaze never once leaving his brother. Near them Caspian fidgeted his sword hilt, eyes restless. Even Glenstorm was showing signs of anxiety, pawing at the ground.

Before any of them could speak, Edmund focused on the restless soldiers. Slowly, he raised his sword and pointed it to the sky. It had the desired effect; cheers rose from the Narnian ranks as Ed finally turned to acknowledge his siblings. He sank onto the stool Caspian had brought over, wincing as each move jostled his shoulder. Once he was seated, Glenstorm shifted just enough to block him from the army's view.

Immediately Susan was at his side, inspecting the wound, brows knit, lips pursed, while Edmund passed his sword to Caspian. "Peter, tear that tunic into long strips," she ordered. "We need to slow the bleeding." Grabbing the tunic (Edmund had no idea where it had come from and at that point he didn't care), Peter did as he was told. Edmund swayed as the adrenaline began to fade away. A strong hand steadied him and he glanced at Caspian with a small smile before focusing on breathing through the pain.

"Susan." Peter handed her a wad of cloth.

Giving him a quick smile, Susan met Edmund's gaze. "This is going to hurt," she warned. Edmund wanted to say "no duh" but instead closed his eyes, bracing himself. But as the cloth pressed against the wound, he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Even so a muffled sound managed to escape and Susan withdrew instantly, eyes soft but tense.

As Edmund caught his breath, Caspian tore a section from what remained of the tunic and handed it to the Just King. Offering the Telmarine prince a grateful grimace, Edmund jammed the cloth between his teeth and nodded to Susan. More cautious this time, the Gentle Queen returned to the task of tending her brother's injuries.

While the cloth helped, Edmund's sharp gasps revealed just how much pain he was in. Wordlessly, Peter moved to stand behind his younger brother and put a bracing hand on his right shoulder. Comforted, even if only a little, by his brother's presence, Edmund leaned back against Peter.

After what felt like an eternity, Susan stepped back and sighed. "This will have to do."

"You can't fight like this," Peter muttered. "I should try to take your place."

Edmund shook his head, but he couldn't put the reason for his objection into words, his mind was too red. And there was a rag in his mouth. Fortunately, Caspian understood. "Edmund is right," he stated. "My uncle would consider a change in opponents as a forfeit and demand our surrender." Frowning, clearly as frustrated with the situation as Peter, he finished, "The Just King must continue the duel."

"Your majesties." Glenstorm's rich voice broke into their conversation. "It is time for the duel to resume."

_Aslan, help me._ Gathering his strength, Edmund rose and accepted his sword from Caspian, but shook his head at the shield, which one of them must have retrieved while he'd been encouraging the soldiers. The Telmarine prince didn't ask and simply set it aside.

As Edmund "tested" his shoulder, really it was more building a "resistance" to it, Peter moved to stand next to him. There was something in his expression that made Edmund nervous. "You know," Peter started. "You've always been there and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ed's throat closed and his vision blurred, but this time it wasn't from pain. _Bloody hell, Pete. _Swallowing the surge of emotions, Ed plastered a grin on his face as he lifted his right shoulder in a sort of shrug. "Die of boredom I suppose."

Before his brother could reply, Edmund stepped out into the arena to meet Miraz. The older man had refused his helmet allowing Edmund to read his every expression. There was a wild glint in the Telmarine's eyes that reminded Ed of a minotaur about to charge. That was his only warning before Miraz lunged forward, shield extended for a blow.

Edmund held his ground until the last possible second when he spun out of harm's way. As his momentum brought him back around to face his opponent, Edmund swung his sword, landing a heavy blow to Miraz's back. The Telmarine stumbled before turning with a bellow and lashing out with his shield.

Again, Edmund avoided the blow, this time ducking under the attack. As the shield went over his head, Edmund angled his blade and thrust upward, forcing the Usurper to jump back. Rising, Ed had just enough time to return to on guard before Miraz charged again.

The pattern continued for several minutes, Miraz attacking, Edmund dodging, with the Usurper becoming more and more frustrated. His anger made him sloppy and his wild attacks were wearing him down, giving Edmund an advantage. But Ed was tiring too, and each movement triggered a new wave of pain. He needed to end the duel and soon. Parrying another strike, his gaze fell on the hilt of the Telmarine's sword. It was beautifully crafted and, unlike Edmund's, had a knuckle guard that curved out and over the man's hand. _Perfect._

Slowly, he allowed Miraz to "push" him back towards the rubble, feigning weakness. When his right foot was stopped as he tried to take another step back, he knew it was time. Just as Miraz struck again, Edmund leapt up onto the rubble, narrowly avoiding the blade. Eyes burning with hate, Miraz aimed his sword at Edmund's chest. Catching the Telmarine's blade with his own, Ed reached out, grabbed the knuckle guard with his left hand, and jumped down from the stone, twisting the hilt to the left as he did. The motion, strengthened by the momentum of the jump, wrenched the sword from the Usurper's grasp.

The moment his feet were on the ground, Edmund lunged at Miraz, using both swords to attack. Miraz's expression went from surprised, to alarmed, to panicked as the young Narnian king dealt blow after blow and forced him to duck behind his shield. When his gaze shifted to his men, Edmund laughed softly. "What makes you so sure they're more likely to put an arrow in me than in you?" he asked. "Don't you know about the treachery lurking in your court?"

For a brief moment, the Usurper's eyes widened and his guard fell. That was all the time Edmund needed. Lunging forward, he brought his sword down on Miraz's shield arm, severing the muscles. As his arm dangled at his side, useless, Miraz shouted, "Respite!"

Edmund's jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to end it, to kill the Usurper and claim victory. Glancing up, he noticed the oily lord watching him closely and, only a blur of silver, the Telmarine army across the field. Slowly, he lowered the swords; he couldn't risk starting a battle that might otherwise be avoided.

"Three minutes," he announced, tossing Miraz's sword to the side. As he made his way back to the others, he watched Peter's face for any warning of a Telmarine trick. He didn't have to wait long. He'd only taken five steps when Peter's eyes widened. Raising his sword, Edmund turned right as Miraz leapt at him with sword in hand. In one fluid motion, Ed drove his blade up and under the Usurper's golden breastplate. The man gasped and stared at Edmund in surprise. Withdrawing his sword, Edmund watched, expressionless, as his enemy fell to his knees.

For several moments, Edmund simply considered the Telmarine, his sword resting against the man's throat. "What's the matter, boy?" Miraz taunted. "Too cowardly to take a life?"

Edmund shook his head, dark eyes as hard and cold as stone. "This is no longer the Narnia I once ruled. The land and the people have changed. As such your life is not mine to take." Turning to Caspian, Edmund stated, "It is our heir who will decide your fate."

Expression unreadable, the Telmarine prince stepped forward and accepted the sword from the Just King. As Caspian angled the blade for the kill, Edmund retreated a few steps, watching his friend closely. _What will you do, Caspian? Are you worthy of being the heir of Narnia?_

"Perhaps I was wrong." Miraz's voice broke into Edmund's thoughts. The man was holding Caspian's gaze steadily. "Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine king after all." As he said the last words, Miraz bowed his head.

A scream, wild and terrifying, tore itself from Caspian as he plunged the sword down, and for a moment Edmund's faith in him faltered. Until, that is, he realized Caspian had buried the tip in a crack between two stones directly in front of his uncle. Trembling, Caspian snarled, "Not one like you." Slowly, he straightened. "Keep your life, but I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom."

As Caspian strode back towards him, the Just King dipped his head in silent blessing. _He'll rule well._ Caspian swallowed hard and Ed gave him a weary smile. While Susan moved forward to speak to Caspian, Edmund allowed his attention to drift back to the Telmarines. The oily lord was supporting Miraz, but there was something off about the way he was positioned.

And then, to Edmund's horror (not shock, he'd known something like this was bound to happen) an arrow slipped from the lord's sleeve and, with a practiced twist, was buried in Miraz's back.

**Hey guys! First off thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews. They really mean a lot. I hope you enjoyed _Confrontation_. ****Reviews welcome! **


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